


Take your Breath Away

by whiplashcrash



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Crack Fic, I hope you like trash writing, Kallus does drugs, M/M, Post-Episode: s02e17 The Honorable Ones, kalluzeb - Freeform, may have borrowed the grounder illness from the 100
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:08:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23489596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiplashcrash/pseuds/whiplashcrash
Summary: A newly recruited Fulcrum agent is nice to a stormtrooper, and stumbles across a lasat who has smeared the world of black and white he used to live in. He's also having trouble breathing around the kriffing lasat, for more reasons than one. Crackfic because I stayed up late trying to write it.
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios
Comments: 7
Kudos: 51





	Take your Breath Away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elleTchj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elleTchj/gifts).



Kallus was stupid. 

Not to say that he wasn’t remarkably intelligent, because he was. His mind ran circles around the other ISB agents, and once he’d stepped onto an Imperial star destroyer as the sole representation of the bureau, the competition had become less, oh, how to phrase it? Competitive?

It was best that he be kind to his colleagues. From a tactical standpoint, it was also wise. The stormtroopers would subconsciously detect his more amicable behavior towards them, and be more willing to assist him in matters such as this. Matters he couldn’t quite bring himself to attend to in person on days where the lines were so blurred between rebels and Imperials; on days like those that followed Bahryn.

His intelligence was how he found himself standing in the detention block with a datapad in hand, exiting the hallway with a confession and list for the rebel cell’s potential targets, which was easy enough to tamper with, without having so much as lifted a finger. His stupidity, however, was how he found himself brushing a line of what he believed to be sweat off his face. He frowned when his black glove glimmered up at him with a dark streak on the fabric. 

Odd, considering he wasn’t feeling that flushed. He shook off the feeling and scrolled through the notes he’d taken during the interrogation. Yes, though he hadn’t intended it, the prisoner had been quite helpful. The stormtrooper who’d... _accelerated_ the extraction of the information had been glad to have helped as well. 

Afterwards, Coevin, that had been his name, had placed his white-armored hand on Kallus shoulder, and sounded like he was smiling. “You mean business, Agent Kallus. I’m glad I’m on your side,” 

Kallus had nodded at Coevin, made a mental note to remember the comment in the event he were to be revealed as something more along the lines of an Imperial spy, of more use to the Empire than as a simple stormtrooper, and left. Already, his mind was bouncing from possibility to possibility, making connections he jotted down. Yes, that diversion would do quite nicely to steer Imperial attention away from the Spectres. 

* * *

“Coevin?” he asked, searching the gunship’s occupants for any kind of indication the stormtrooper was aboard. After a moment, all the identical helmets turned to look for the stormtrooper, too. No one said anything, and Kallus fought off a mix of confusion and irritation. “I thought I specifically asked him to be assigned to this mission because of his familiarity with the source?”

“He’s in medbay. Sick. Some nasty virus or something. It’s bad enough they took him off the duty roster,” one of the other stormtroopers near the back said.

Kallus frowned. “How do you know this?”

The stormtrooper shrugged. “I was scheduled to be on duty with him yesterday. He had a last-minute replacement who agreed to cover his shift.”

It made sense, Kallus reasoned, there was no reason for him to start being paranoid, yet. When the gunship landed, he and this newer, younger stormtrooper set out into the city and made their way through the streets in search of the Ghost crew. He found himself distracted, and forgot to actually consciously lead the forces away from where the Spectres were most likely to be located. He was sweating enough his helmet grew hot and uncomfortable. The crisp uniform did not breathe very well, and although it was out of the norm for him, he pulled at the stiff collar to try and air it out. 

The stormtroopers on either side of him stared at him oddly from behind their helmets, he could feel it. It was a relief, he realized, when he looked up and saw a flash of purple stripes in a sea of people. He realized his men’s attention would be on him, and not the burly lasat within their sight, and seized the opportunity.

“Split off into two groups and continue down these two streets. I will press onward. Contact me immediately if you find anything,” he ordered. The soldiers did as they were instructed, and went along their merry little way while he began walking at a much faster pace to try and close the gap between him and his target. 

The crowd parted ways when they saw him coming, hushed whispers in earshot. Some people even outright jumped backwards at the sight of his ISB garments, the product of his agency seeing to a great deal of curating a reputation based on one principle: fear. He doubted many of these people had reason to fear beyond the common anxiety that came with seeing an Imperial in the streets, but it was oddly nice to have his path laid out for him.

He reached up with one hand and grabbed the shoulder of the lasat as he rounded the corner, pushing him out of view with perhaps too much of his strength, and onto a more remote side street. Zeb’s instinct, he knew, was to fight, but Kallus was prepared, and caught the first, and second blows as familiar as he was with the lasat’s fighting technique.

Kallus did not catch the third, and folded over when he was hit rather forcefully in the chest. Winded but not wounded, he raised his arm and wheezed: “Zeb, wait!” before he was struck again. 

“Aw, karabast, Kal, what were you thinking?” Zeb said, ears drooping when he realized who exactly he’d managed to hit. 

“I was thinking--” the imperial coughed, “--You would have done something a little more along the lines of shoving me into a wall, not playing the part of the kriffing wall,”

He winced. “Sorry,”

Kallus shook his head, “No matter.” he rose back to his full height and smiled at the worried-looking lasat in front of him. “I think I will live,”

“Good. That’d be an embarrassing way to go out,”

“As embarrassing as being eaten by a chicken?” he teased, a sparkle of playfulness returning to his eyes even with a weak cough following his grin.

Zeb eyed Kallus, but continued their banter easily. “I’m a few steps up from a huge chicken on an ice moon, but Ezra would find a way to make, ‘take your breath away’ into some sort of terrible joke,”

“Make sure to include it in my eulogy for the next time this happens,” Kallus half-laughed, coughing again. “Bridger’s oversight of my funeral is my only dying wish,”

“Dying wish?” Zeb chuckled. “You big baby, you’re still breathing,” 

“I thought you wanted to take my breath away?”

“Maybe let's try a different way?” Zeb’s voice rose a tad; the question itself lacked his usual confidence. “One that involves you breathing a little better?”

Kallus dared to hope that what was happening wasn’t a figment of his imagination. “Only if it’s your air I’m breathing,” he slowly leaned forward on his feet to try and close the height distance between them, eyes daring to close a little sloppily when Zeb jerked back as if he’d been burned. 

“Karabast, Kal, you’re bleeding!”

“I’m bleeding?” he asked, not quite understanding the words as he shook off the trance his lover had cast over him. “Where?” he coughed. “You didn’t even cut through my uniform,” another cough. “It’ll bruise at worst,” he hacked viciously this time, some faint metallic taste in his mouth making him grimace. 

“No, your eyes are bleeding, Alexsandr,” Zeb said. The use of his full name jarred him, and Kallus’ hands sprung up to touch his eyes.

He felt nothing, and scoffed. “That’s ridiculous, _Garazeb_ ,” he said, rolling said eyes that were perfectly fine, thank you very much. “Eyes don’t bleed, the skin around them does.”

“I’m dead serious, Kal, just look at yourself,” he said. The lasat began searching the alley for something metal, and not completely rusted, just so Kallus could see his own reflection. While he searched, Kallus coughed, this time a little harder. He grimaced, a burn surfacing in his chest unlike the blow from before, then coughed again, but this time, it didn’t stop. 

He put his hands up to his face to try and cover the awful sound, but the harder he coughed, the more difficult it was to stay on his feet. His cursed too-hot-to-breathe-in uniform met the wall he stumbled backwards into. Kallus leaned backwards, but sank down onto the ground beneath him and threw his head back. His regulation helmet hit the wall. Frustrated, he reached up to throw the kriffing thing away from him, those coughs growing more persistent, until he realized what was about to happen and spat up the thick blood in his mouth. 

Bleeding- he was bleeding on this inside. 

“Alex- oh Ashla, oh no,” Zeb cried, hurrying over to where he was sitting, arm braced in the dirt as he leaned over to the side and coughed. Blood splattered all over the ground, and parts of his uniform, but Kallus couldn’t breathe, much less care. “It’s okay, I’m here, I’m here,” he said, four-fingered hand running up and down his back. Hadn’t his bo-rifle been there? 

The question was banished when he spat up that same bitter-tasting blood, and something else came to mind. The heat, the coughing, the bleeding eyes-

“Zeb, no!” he said hoarsely. “No, don’t touch me. Get away, it’s contagious,”

“What do you mean?” The lasat asked. “I didn’t do this? I didn’t hurt you?”

He coughed again, this time thankfully just burning his throat with air. “No,” he managed weakly. “It’s a virus. One of the stormtroopers gave it to me.” Despite his usual elegant speech, Kallus could not get out more than a few words without his shortness of breath cropping up. 

“Kallus, you need help, and you need it now,” Zeb said, reaching for him again. 

“No!” he put up one hand between him and Zeb. As much as every part of his body screamed to wrap those fingers into the lasat’s fur, he made sure to keep from brushing against even his jumpsuit. “I couldn’t live with- with myself if I gave you this and it killed you.”

“And I can just go on like nothing happened if it kills you?”

Kallus groaned, bracing himself in the dirt. “It’s already killing me, kriff it. I’m not letting it take you, too,” Zeb, he knew, was stubborn, but Kallus had yet to find anyone who could outmatch his own resolve to conquer, and more importantly: to win. 

Zeb scowled, and pushed his weak hand away. “Don’t be stupid,” he said. “I probably already have it, and I am not just leaving you here to die in the kriffing street.”

“Ugh,” he groaned. “I hate you,”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You just go on hating me if it keeps you breathing. Now come on,” Zeb said, a second bo-rifle slung over his back when he lifted Kallus up. He didn’t bother to ask Zeb where it was they were going, he could barely stay conscious. His whole chest burned as if a hot knife had cut through his insides, and without his consent, (because when had his new resident virus asked for his permission before?) he lost his grip on reality, and slipped unconscious. He really was at Zeb’s mercy, it seemed. 

* * *

The first dull beep of a monitor caught his attention at first. Thinking it to be a doorbell chime, he groaned. _Go away,_ he thought irritably. _I’m sleeping._

It continued, a regular beat in his ears as obnoxious as the kriffing button-pusher lasat who always got under his skin in such little time. Kallus groaned again, and felt his own breath warm the front of his face, as if it were trapped, or he were wearing a mask. 

Wait, Mask? He fought the drugs he’d been pumped full of, ones that weren’t keen on letting him do certain strenuous things like opening his eyes. To begin with, he wasn’t successful, but his force of will was unlike anything these puny little drugs had ever seen. He cracked open the one eye, and grimaced. One hand flew up to cover his poor eyes from the blinding white light put oh-so kindly in his face.

“Kal?” came Zeb’s voice, gravelly and hopeful. He sounded tired, Kallus mused, about as tired as he actually felt. 

Kallus mumbled something, slurring his words and frowning. His intended message had clearly not gotten through, because Garazeb perked up; he could hear it. “Oh, praise Ashla, I was so scared you wouldn’t make it,” he reached to grab hold of Kallus’ weak hand up at his face. A thumb ran up and down his face above where the mask rested, softer than the touches he’d grown accustomed to from the lasat over the years. 

He tried again, and although he could now hear some resemblance to what he wanted to say, Zeb did not. Kallus could practically see his ears twitch. “What? What is it?”

He took his other hand to pull off the mask and turn in sweet Zeb’s direction. “Turn off the light,” he said weakly. His exhaustion would not let him say much more. Blond head lolling off to the side he sighed, not caring where he was or how it was possible that they were together, because why would he bother? The lights were off, but Kallus followed suit.

When he opened his eyes much later, it was when he heard an unfamiliar voice. A crisp professional man spoke in hushed tones with a woman, who he suspected from her tone was angry. 

“S’cuse me,” Zeb cut in, and through his eyelashes, Kallus could see him looking nervous. “I know I’ve asked a lot of you, to treat an Imperial agent, but I’m telling you, there will be no trouble.”

“How can you promise me such a thing?” the man asked. “I am not a man to turn away those who come to me in need, but you are right! He is Imperial, and if I make a mistake, who is to say he will not come back and slaughter me and my family? The Empire takes as it pleases, and I am not eager to draw unwanted attention to myself, lasat. Not after what my son did to anger the local commander.”

“He isn’t like that, please. Please don’t misjudge him. He’s not like the Imperials. He’s a good man, an honorable man,” Zeb said, “He will do everything in his power to help you, not harm you. I know he will,”

“And how do you know this?”

“Because,” Zeb said, like it was the most obvious thing in the whole world. “I love him,”

The answer seemed to satisfy the two of them, or maybe it didn’t. Either way, Kallus didn’t hear them arguing anymore, and he let the drugs work their magic.

The sun had set, and the room was dark, Zeb’s snoring the only thing that might have cut the peaceful moment to shreds. Kallus turned his head to look at the lasat and smiled in his drug-induced giddiness. “Zeb,” he whispered. 

Zeb didn’t reply. Kallus frowned. “Zeb~!” he half sang, left hand reaching over to touch the lasat’s fur. “Zeb, wake up,” he pleaded, fiddling with the purple stripes for his amusement, and maybe to stir their owner from his slumber. 

Now, Kallus realized in delight, now he was waking up. “Kal?” he asked sleepily.

“That’s me,” he giggled, squeezing the lasat’s hand that he’d managed to capture. “I’m Kal. Short for Kallus. I’m Kallus, too, you know,” he said matter-of-factly, the most serious expression he could summon accompanied by wide-eyes.

Zeb stared. “You’re also high,”

“Mm hmm,” he nodded. “You’re also pretty,”

Zeb gaped. “What?”

“You’re really tall, and you have two names, too! Zeb, but that’s short for Garazeb,” drugged-Kallus said. “We’re matching,” he concluded. Kallus turned his head the other way to look out the window. “I wish I was as tall as you,” the confession came. “I’d be the tallest human ever, like ever, in the Empire,”

Zeb couldn’t help it, he snorted. “Maybe not the tallest ever,”

“Shh,” Kallus turned back to look at Zeb’s now amused expression. “Konstantine would be so surprised.”

“Okay, Kallus,” Zeb said. He patted that hand now in his own to soothe the totally stoned man. “Alright, I’ll make you a deal. You ready?” Kallus nodded. “If you sleep right now, the drugs will make you taller than even I am. But you’ve gotta sleep, or you’ll keep them from working.”

Kallus frowned while he considered what the lasat was saying. “Okay. I believe you. I’ll do that now.” He rolled onto his side, however, and his adoring gaze fixed itself on Zeb’s face. “Garazeb, will you help me?”

“Help you with what?”

“Being taller?”

“How?” he asked, smiling at the look on Kallus’ face.

“If you come here, and lay next to me, the drugs will know exactly how tall i wanna be,” Kallus explained.

“I don’t think-”

“Oh, come on,” he pleaded, pulling on the wrist he’d wrapped his hand around. “Come on. Come on, please?” he asked. Zeb almost swore he was pouting.

“No.”

“Zeeeb,” he whined, pulling again. “Come on,”

“No, Kal.”

“But I wanna be tall!” Kallus raised his voice a little more.

“Shh! Karabast,” Zeb stood from his chair and stood, wide-eyed above the bed Kallus was in. “Okay, I’ll lay next to you, just don’t be so loud, you’re going to wake someone up!” It was awkward at first, Zeb not knowing quite where to rest, and Kallus scooting on the bed that rather insistently creaked every time he moved. 

Through trial and error, however, they eventually settled on a position Zeb knew would keep present Kallus on drugs and future sober Kallus happy enough. Kallus pulled Zeb’s arm over his body, and snuck his fingers through Zeb’s. He sighed blissfully. “You’re so warm,”

“Thank you?” Zeb said, unsure if it was the right thing to reply with. Kallus seemed happy enough, though.

The silence didn’t last long. “You wanna know why I want to be as tall as you?” Kallus sighed.

“Why?” he asked, hand still Kallus’ hostage.

“Cause,” Kallus blinked slowly. “That way I can kiss you better,”

If Zeb’s spluttering was any indication, speech, much less eloquent speech, were tools he no longer possessed, but Zeb realized halfway into stringing together a sentence that Kallus’ breathing had slowed and he was back to sleep again, easy as can be.

* * *

“Thank you for everything,” Kallus said for what was probably the hundredth time, Zeb smiled.

“You are most welcome, sir,” the doctor said. His sincerity neither Kallus nor Zeb doubted. 

“I will personally see to it that the Imperial commander is reminded of your best qualities. You deserve no less after what you have done for me,” Kallus promised, nodding at him and his wife. “Your son is only a child, after all, and should not be punished for it,”

“Thank you,” the doctor’s wife bowed her head with a genuine smile. “Your kindness is unmatched in this city,”

Kallus shook his head. “But not in this household. I am forever indebted to you and your husband. Should you ever run into trouble, I am willing to assist you,”

Strangely, the woman shook her head. “To be loved is reward enough in life, and to share love is a gift unlike any other. You have opened up your heart to those who might not otherwise have had the opportunity to be touched by your goodness, and I am comforted in knowing a man like you serves the Empire,”

Years of experience were the only thing keeping him from flinching. Right, the Empire. The Empire who he desperately hoped would accept his reasoning for being missing in action overnight. While the story he’d concocted contained elements of the truth, he would be hard pressed to not be questioned and reprimanded before being quarantined.

Kallus smiled, and bowed his head. “Of course, madam. I really must be going if I wish to speak with the commander. I must not be tardy,”

This was their final exchange, and though they waved from the door to their home, Kallus was able to pull himself away from the family and walk down the street just before sunrise alongside his companion. “It’s a good thing you’re doing for those people, Kal,”

He blushed. “They saved me life, Garazeb, it’s the least I can do for them.”

Garazeb? The lasat wondered. Since when was Kallus back to being so formal with him after Bahryn?

“You saved my life, too. At the risk of your own,” he reminded Zeb.

The lasat shrugged; it was his turn to be embarrassed. “Yeah, well, I guess we’ve made a habit of that after everything we’ve been through together.”

To his surprise, Kallus took him by the hand and ducked into an alleyway. They stood in the shadows, out of the early morning light as the sun crept upwards. “You know, one day I might not have you there to save me,”

“I know,”

“Being Fulcrum is dangerous,”

“I know,”

“Anyone I care about would be in danger, too,”

“Yeah.” Zeb frowned, not liking where the conversation was headed. “I know,”

Kallus’ face split into a grin, and stood up tall, those gloved hands grasping the sides of the lasat’s face. His boots wrinkled at the ends as he pushed himself onto his toes, as close to eye level as he could get with Zeb. “And you don’t care, do you?”

Zeb’s heart leapt as he smiled back. “No, I don’t,”

“So then, why don’t you come down here and tell me something?”

“Tell you what?” Zeb asked as he bent down to get closer to the Fulcrum agent.

“Do you love me?” Kallus breathed softly, relishing in the feel of the lasat’s soft face under his touch. 

He snuck his own hands down to pull Kal up by the underside of one thigh, and this time, they breathed without trouble. “Yeah, Kal. I love you,”

“Good,” Kallus said, not wasting another moment. Kriff it, they’d wasted so many already. His mouth found the lasat’s and while it was an easy, simple kiss, his heart thumped behind his ribs louder than a war drum. 

“Would you be interested in knowing something else about being a Fulcrum agent?” He chuckled, warm air mixing in the small gap there was between the two of them.

Zeb hummed, and nodded. “Yeah, I would,”

“It means I am completely, unquestionably in love with you, Garazeb,” 

“Oh, really?” he gave Kallus a questioning look. 

He laughed, and kissed the lasat again. “Really.”

“Clearly you would know,” Zeb teased between kisses. “Who am I to question the expert on all things Fulcrum?”

Kallus shook his head and smiled in the lasat’s arms, trusting him as his feet dangled in the air. “Just the one I love,”

“Because you love me,”

Kallus nodded. “Yes.”

“Guess what?” He asked, sneaking a kiss that was clearly too short for Kallus, because he tried to follow him when he broke it off. 

“What?” he asked, rolling his eyes in that way that was so Kallus, even if he was a rebel.

“I love you, too!” he said cheerily. Even though he could see his Kal giving him a signature look of both disbelief and amusement, Zeb grinned, and kissed him one, two -maybe a few more than three-times. However many, it was only the beginning of an inumerable measure of kisses in the times to come, the beginning of _them_.


End file.
